Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 13, 2019. Friday.

Dream #: 19,261-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I enter an instinctually motivated dreaming experience of watching a train in Brisbane in the late morning (anticipation of vestibular modulation). Several unknown people are present. Instead of boarding it, I continue to stand in the area and watch it leave.

I decide I may get the train after all and manage to catch up when it makes a stop. The setting is now rural, and the train seems to have become a ramshackle shed. Welding sparks from an unseen welder scatter from beyond the other side of one corner to the right (neural synchrony).

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This dream stems from the same process as “Typewriter Train.” I was flying over a train that screeched and suddenly stopped. The front of the train was a giant black 1940s typewriter (potential cognitive arousal). The train had run out of track and dug slightly into the ground.

Another version of the same process occurred in “Helicopter Digger.” While a friend and I were fishing, a helicopter came down, and its rotor blades dug into the ground.

The first dream’s last scene is consciousness initiation and emerging from the dream state (neural synchrony in waking point modulation as emerging sparks as analogous with fire, lightning, and electricity).

The second dream is vestibular modulation transitioning to potential cognitive arousal, but with the association of needing physicality to relay information (typewriter). (The mind and body must connect to wake and move.)

The third dream is vestibular modulation transitioning to the anticipation (or desire) of returning to slow-wave sleep.

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Morning of May 28, 2018. Monday.



On my way back to waking reality by way of a passenger train (autosymbolism for both the induction and waking process), I decide to walk after remaining in passive lucidity. I hover above my seat and phase through the train as in past dreams (though in this case, actively flying ahead to phase through the front of the train rather than just letting it phase through me while I hover in a fetal position) and walk through an isolated grove, feeling a deep sense of peace and love as both my returning memory and realization of Zsuzsanna being near me in bed breaks through the liminal space barrier of the illusory dream state.

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I first developed an understanding of the illusory nature of the dream state at age three (probably why I rarely have “bad” dreams unless related to health by way of transpersonal premonitory threads). Since then, I have phased through hundreds of vehicles, including the roofs of taxis, usually entering lucid omnipresence as here. This is all about vestibular system correlation and a vehicle being an autosymbolic illusory projection of the physical body in REM sleep. However, even walking is not what I am doing in reality, as I am asleep at the time, but walking is closer to the preconscious transition than riding a train is.

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Morning December 7, 2017. Thursday.



I am seemingly at our present address, though it is distorted. There are two main parts to my dream.

One part involves Jim (August 1, 1947-June 10, 2008, half-brother on my mother’s side). He is sitting next to me on a bench, to my left. A doctor is also present. My dream self is unaware that he had died. However, the doctor is talking about Jim’s overweight physicality. (This was more relevant to the 1980s, before he lost a lot of weight.) There seem to be other people present at times. There is some sort of surreal concept relating to individual internal body parts relating to being fat and which one is affected first, with some sort of odd association with stencils. Jim does not speak but the doctor does, touching Jim’s shoulders and arms at times.

This eventually shifts into a different dream scenario. It relates to also being at our present address. However, there is apparently a train, designed like a subway train, which seemingly goes north to south near where our bed is in reality. I stand in the semidarkness looking at this setup, though I do not consider it strange or intrusive.

Two men who work for this subway system, formally dressed, though reminding me also of movie ushers based on their uniforms, are performing an unusual task while moving out from and back into the different train cars. They are working from north to south, putting some sort of small metal hanging objects over the door handles. Some of the hanging objects are different but some resemble a smaller detached handle of some kind, though each reminds me vaguely of a broken handcuff (though not seen as such by my dream self). However, I realize that they relate to some sort of signifying of a particular subway car’s status, possibly relating to how many passengers are allowed in the next journey or which cars can be used in what way.

Next, there is a pointless and contradictory conversation where I tell them that one of the handles does not need the marker as such (as there is already one on the adjacent handle of the same set of doors), even though I am not certain of the purpose of their job. They say that it does not matter how many of the objects are used but then soon contradict themselves by implying that there is only a limited number of these objects and that all must go where they should. I do not say anything or even fully notice this contradiction for a few seconds, then I wake in realization that their comments made no sense.

Decoding template follows:

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• Dream type and explanation: Doorway waking symbolism; with emergent consciousness triggered by illogical contradiction (liminal space cessation trigger), as intelligence is not typically extant in the dream state.
• RAS symbol to dream exit point: Our sleeping area was replaced by a train, symbolizing the return to waking life and oriented north to south as how we rise from bed in reality (that is, our feet are oriented south).
• Preconscious factor: The subway workers as ambiguously associated with movie ushers (as a movie theater symbolizes detachment from the real world; that is, symbolizes the dream state itself).
• Additionally, the otherwise unknown act seems associated with setting up rope barriers (as in a movie theater) yet without the rope, and yet also implying “release” from the dream state (broken handcuffs on door handles, a door representing a dream’s exit point).
• The first part of my dream relates to a desire to remain healthy, though I am not obese (as Jim was throughout the 1980s).

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Morning of August 17, 2017. Thursday.



I am in an unknown room with mostly only a large square wooden table. I seem to be in a movie that is being filmed in real time. Two other characters are Batman and Robin as from the 1960s television series. It seems we may have been kidnapped and are being held hostage. A couple unknown males are also present but I am not sure of any backstory. There are a few items in the room which may have been sabotaged. Batman and I mostly sit on the table at first while Robin is standing.

There is a point at which Robin follows my index finger in some sort of swaying dance to follow my lead even though I do not seem to be a main character in this movie, perhaps not even being filmed while Batman and Robin are. Still, I hold my right arm up, my index finger pointing upwards, and I move my arm side to side as if I were defining a downwards-oriented semicircle in a sort of pendulum-like definition or as if I am conducting an orchestra. It feels extraordinarily vivid though I am not lucid and it goes on for several minutes. Robin changes his facial expressions to apparently follow my cues as such. He is standing on the table and sort of half-dancing, half-swaying, seemingly professional but almost as if hypnotized.

At one point, Batman has an oversized pair of black squarish plastic binoculars. Like other items, I suspect that they have been booby-trapped by the Riddler or the Joker. He decides not to use them and puts them down on the table. I then notice an unusual bat come out of them (they seem to be hollow now), which may be venomous and may have bitten Batman on his nose if he had looked through the binoculars. The bat’s upper body and wings are like a bat, but the rest of it has the look of a silverfish, except it is all black. It crawls around as I notice this silverfish-like bottom part of this “bat”. I consider that it seems of very odd appearance to be a bat, but soon realize that it is likely of a particular species and so thus is not unusual at all.

Somehow, we all escape. I end up going out the back door of our present house into our backyard. I no longer see Batman and Robin. I notice three bats of mostly normal appearance to the left of the door and standing with wings out on the external bathroom window sill. They all appear to have Mohawk hairstyles. They are arranged in a triangular orientation, as if in the orientation of a water-skiing stunt, two on the bottom, and one on the top with a foot on each of the other’s shoulder.

I step out through our gate, though instead of the street view, it is an alley with a high wooden fence on the opposite side (which my dream self does not consider wrong). An astounding energy and vividness develops as the Batmobile goes by to my right, to the north. It looks like a far more modern Batmobile; like the V10 Lamborghini Batmobile. I feel fantastic enjoyment as I watch it pass, looking at all the details. There appears to be another car in front of it, about a car distance ahead, which I feel is an unmarked police car from the 1970s.

From here, a train passes from the north to the south. Near the other side of the alley are a set of railroad tracks. I am aware that this must be a scene from the movie to appear differently in the movie than the overall event is being seen. The train, which seems already half-destroyed, rolls on the tracks, rotating sideways as with the essence of a corkscrew or manual drill, as the tracks seem to be pulled to the south by some sort of machine, as parts of the train and what is left of it get smaller and smaller as it goes by, and the tracks being pulled along by the unseen machine until they are not present. I can vividly feel the vibrations in the ground in my feet and lower legs. I am briefly somewhat wary of this event being so close to our house (though I mistakenly perceive that it is close to fictional parts of our house to the south and it now seems I am looking out from a long apartment block). Still, I trust the movie studio knows what it is doing and I am confident that there is no threat at all.

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From experience, this dream may be telling me that, in exactly one year (on August 17, 2018), I will be meeting someone who played Robin in a movie, possibly in a public place such as a shopping mall (or a wayward visitor to my front door). I say this mostly based on two features, one, the appearance of three bats, which relate to long-term precognition (and in fact appeared in a dream with several layers of precognition about Zsuzsanna long before I knew she was a real person), secondly, another dream character seeming “hypnotized” by me in an eerie dance and following my cues or influence appeared in the sole dream I had of Charlie Pride - and I met him in real life exactly one year to the date after my dream. I may be wrong regarding the dynamics of this dream, but it will take a year to see if it manifests as such. (Then again, concerning the presence of the three bats, it could be many years from now to the date as with my prescient dreams about Zsuzsanna.) So, if I meet Burt Ward on August 17, 2018, you read it here first (though it may prove to be a different Robin, as Burt is now 72 years old, then again, it might even be a different person named Burt Ward, hard to say with prescience sometimes being skewed).

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Morning of November 2, 2016. Wednesday.



My dream’s backstory and beginning is not that clear but implies getting on a train and going on a special journey to somewhere undetermined. After I get on the train I enter a mode of non-lucid dream control. I get the idea that “anything can happen” on this train ride and that it might even be some sort of bizarre fairground ride, whereby the train may not even be moving at one point even though most of the passengers assume it is real and going to perhaps another country or even an unexplored region.

At one point, scenes of what seem like the surfaces of a couple different planets (one view somewhat Mars-like) are viewed through the window of the train. A couple young girls gasp and point. I am vaguely aware that I somehow created the events yet I do not become actively lucid at any point.

After several minutes, what looks like a large town is passing by the windows, except the view is consistently upside-down. People do not seem to be all that concerned and I can tell it is obviously fake. I can even see a black band along the bottom of the rolling imagery a few times, as if it is not fixed to the mechanism correctly, which is apparently like a conveyor belt rotated ninety degrees to the vertical position and displaying a long strip of paper that features the photographic detail. I feel slightly disappointed at the intelligence of some of the other passengers in their apparent thinking that it is real though I do not say anything.

Eventually, we come to a stop near a supposedly unexplored jungle. I wander to a clearing with an unknown male. There is a large circular hole in the ground. There also seem to be a few larger concentric arcs about the opening. This causes me to become puzzled and I wonder how pieces of ground could stay up as such. There are at least two monkeys in the large spherical pit that are small and of no threat. I do not get as close to the opening as the other male and advise him to be careful, as the additional arced openings do not seem logical or even possible (unless perhaps strong rods with platforms are under the narrower sections of isolated ground though this does not seem to be the case) yet no lucidity is triggered.

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Morning of November 4, 2015. Wednesday.



I and my wife Zsuzsanna and our children are living at our present home on W Street. However, it is elevated at least to second-storey perspective in the first situation, with our wooden staircase over twice as high and oriented northward (directly from our front door) rather than offset and westward (perpendicular to our front door and at the front of our porch) as in reality. Running parallel and adjacent to our footpath, in fact the railroad tracks seemingly replacing a portion of the street, is some sort of small train station (with the train seemingly running west to east). I eventually see Barry Cowsill (September 14, 1954 – c. August 29, 2005) cheerfully approaching our house, seemingly having gotten off a train that was stopped near where the intersection is in reality. He has a beard and is wearing a hat. I have a sense of positive expectation about this encounter and get an autograph from him. I get a sense that the other Cowsills may soon arrive but not necessarily visit our home. I am not sure why he is on his own presently.

Somehow, there is soon a heavy wind blowing; some sort of “super hurricane”, so powerful as to carry large pieces of metal everywhere. I am outside and trying to dodge things like falling garage doors and large pieces of bulldozers and earthmovers as well as sections of warehouses in the region. Although it seems I may be in danger from large falling objects and windblown debris, I do not feel that threatened, though I do try to get out of the way in each case. There are a couple diggers and bulldozers on the streets near our house.

I avoid a large sheet of metal falling towards me by ducking under some sort of metal awning sticking out from a parked utility truck or van. It is a very loud metallic sound when it hits the concrete sidewalk (fictional in this case, as the area is grass in reality). A few times, I move out of the way of approaching flying debris. This almost seems like an “automatic” or natural “ability”.

Directly after this, I get into a car (which is parked facing south next to our house), into the back seat, where two unfamiliar older boys are sitting - seemingly related to some sort of emergency evacuation of the area - they do not seem like my sons. (This is atypical for me, as I often cannot fit inside cars in dreams if the situation involves getting into one, though in some cases, I am already in a car and there is usually no problem as such.) I am slightly concerned that the car may be crushed and so I get out after a short time, mentioning this to the boys and a couple unknown adults. Although this wind is incredibly powerful, it does not seem to be doing any direct damage to buildings (other than abandoned warehouses) and does not even seem to have much direct force against my movements and walking about.

Mostly, this dream was shaped by actual loud metallic noises outside our window at the time; curiously enough, a trailer they were eventually unloading small diggers from after I was awake (which I could not have consciously known, as very similar noises came from temporarily parked car carriers and other random vehicles at times in the past).

Apparently, without deliberately trying to sound harsh or judgmental, there are certain people, including certain types of “dream interpreters” who are too short-sighted to understand that some dreams are mostly only shaped (or at least altered during the dream state) by environmental noises (as here) - even though there is also the inexplicable element of somehow knowing during sleep that there was a large trailer with diggers parked outside our house (our windows and curtains were closed). The other association seemed fairly untimely and random. Barry Cowsill actually died during Hurricane Katrina in 2005 (not found until later, thus why the date of passing is not exact). (“On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit the city of New Orleans. Cowsill, who chose not to evacuate, weathered the storm in an abandoned warehouse.”)

The first segment of my dream may be a play on “being off track” - implying that my dream is soon going to be “altered” (”disturbed”) by environmental noises, which it was. Arguments and fights amongst unknown groups of people outside our window (while we were sleeping) have also influenced, even triggered as a foundation, our dreams at times. I am sure most experienced and genuine dream journalists can easily relate to this (especially those who live in a suburban area as we do).

Morning of September 27, 2015. Sunday.



I am walking around in the dark in an unusual version of our old apartment on Duffy Street, the layout of which seems doubled somehow. I hear Zsuzsanna saying something about some sort of noise and I am not sure what is going on. My awareness of my walking in the dark is quite vivid and accurate. Eventually however, I reach a door, which seems to be the back door from the garage area that goes out into the shared courtyard. When I go out, I note nothing unexpected (even though it is completely fictional).

There is a miniature railway running through the courtyard, adjacent to the back of our apartment building. Behind the other apartment is an older male (of perhaps about sixty) on a miniature locomotive. I recognize that there is a miniature locomotive on my side parked farther back on the small railroad tracks on our side (though I have no memory of having used it recently). There are also a few items around it, possibly chairs and a container of some sort.

There are two sets of tracks running parallel behind our area, becoming one between our apartment and the unknown male’s, with the outermost track arcing towards our building and joining his one track. Thus, when he rides the locomotive towards our area, he turns onto the other track rather than being close to the back of our apartment, but still goes into our part of the courtyard. It is quite vivid and interesting and again, it does not come to mind that this is a completely fictional setup.

My wife Zsuzsanna and our youngest son come out from our back door to see what is going on. The man seems to be in the process of moving a large box or something to the other side of the building just past our side, where apparently the street runs perpendicular to the edge of the tracks (and where the tracks just stop or are truncated). It may be very early in the morning before sunrise, or still fairly late at night. There is enough light to see all the interesting detail, I assume from street lights and lights that shine into the courtyard from the back of the building.

The male on the locomotive seems to be coordinating an effort with a younger male (of about thirty at the most) on the street to our left, to move at least one large box that was apparently put near the outer track earlier. The younger male is straddling a miniature Formula One racing car and sort of going back and forth (backwards and forwards) along the street without turning, seemingly on foot power alone (though the car is possibly also moving with a motor of some kind). He seems to be doing this due to other traffic on the street now and then, to narrowly avoid being hit by the normal cars.

Unfortunately, he seems to somehow get blocked off at one point (from normal cars in both directions, I think) as we are watching and somehow gets knocked backwards off his toy Formula One car and pulled away in the other direction (possibly from something sticking out the side of the bed of a passing pickup truck), somehow causing his left foot (which is somehow torn off near the bottom of the car) to remain near the car, shoe and all, as he screams in surprise and ends up lying on his back (being dragged a short distance) in the opposite direction of our apartment. There is blood, but not a lot. I push my youngest son back towards the back door as he starts to move more out towards the courtyard, as I do not want him to see the bizarre accident. Zsuzsanna holds his shoulders so he does not run off.

I get the impression that the younger male could have turned off to the right into the courtyard, but that the box they were going to move was in the way.

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People who believe in “dream interpretation” in the way the term is often used seem to wholly lack the understanding of biologically premonitory hypnopompia, which I have experienced once or twice, every day, for over fifty years, though I still find the thousands of unique resultant dreams as fascinating. In this case, my dream transitioned to align with a spontaneous jab in my ankle to “explain”, by irrelevant fiction, what the “cause” was, projecting it onto a different dream character. Such physical effects are involuntary and based on unconscious dynamics and to assign “interpretation” is pointless. This is unfortunate, because some dreams also have incredible levels of prescience. For example, I married my “dream girl” over a lifetime of very specific clues about her, including everything from her birthplace to her birthday to her name and exact appearance, even the unlikely mixed Hungarian and Australian accent. What is not literal prescience is more likely to be restricted to the dynamics of dreaming and waking, not that hard to grasp in my experience. The train for example, represents the emergent consciousness, and the pattern of increasing neural activity in the waking stage. What is even more obvious is the link to the pickup truck bed as being part of the accident scene, and the play on “bed”, as my foot being near the end of our bed as I am sleeping.

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Morning of March 31, 2015. Tuesday.



This was the last dream of about nine of this date but the longest and most meandering one. I am back in time, probably 1984, and in my twenties. However, the setting is somewhat like a composite with at least some features being my room in Cubitis (where I lived from 1968 to 1978). Other features (mostly the front) resemble the house on Loomis Street (Wisconsin) as well as Barolin Street (in Australia). At one point, I look out from the porch and see that it is nighttime. However, I hear some sort of lawn mower or hedge trimmer to my left at a neighbor’s house though I cannot see them anywhere (they are probably at the side of their house). I make some sort of odd comment (to a young male I am not sure of the identity of) about the area looking so clean that it looks like it was vacuumed. My comment is not really valid, though, as there seems to be large loose stalks of dark yellowish dried-up grass everywhere, in front of my residence as well as the houses to the left and to the right. Still, I have a false memory that it had recently been much messier, including with trash strewn about by the locals.

I am in my room and am aware that one page of my dream journal had been tampered with. This is a memory concerning the time when I had large notebooks (over-sized binders), which were stacked on a table, to have most of my dreams documented on notebook paper in handwritten print (though later pages were typed). The page is separate (possibly freshly written) and concerns the summary of one dream, taking up about half the page. Susan R is the one that had tampered with it due to her apparent “playful” jealousy on the nature of my in-dream dream record (though also somewhat sarcastic and mean-spirited). I do not remember this dream from my dream record within my dream at all even though I read the whole entry very clearly (but do not remember having originally written it - and my summary seems more choppy than with some other typical entries of the time). It concerns some sort of meeting with Edna Pearson (a character from “Prisoner: Cell Block H”; a show that I have not thought about at all since 1986 - thus this fascinates me as to how such a memory could surface for no apparent reason without an iota of thought for about thirty years) and there is detail concerning a trip on a train and a chimpanzee. Susan had written “Hello Edna Pearson!” in cursive handwriting larger than my print and something obnoxious about me finding the chimpanzee attractive simply because I dreamt about one. There are a few other short phrases she had written about various parts of the paragraph that are making fun of my dream work as well as some of the metaphorical associations. I am very angry and crumple up the page and complain to her about her jealous prank and tell her to leave and that I do not want to see her again.

After this, an unknown male and I have a conversation. This is something to do with having no more contact with Susan and going on to find the “mystery girl” (wife-to-be). He does not believe me (or in remote viewing or precognition) and so I tell him that I will bet him $1,000.00 that what I say is true. He agrees to a bet, but oddly takes out a one-dollar Australian coin (even though the time period and location is only related to America) to make the bet - and I agree (also taking out an Australian one-dollar coin to place it on the small table between us), though the small amount seems a bit pointless to bother with and I get a vague impression he is being skeptically condescending through this act (though I do not pursue any conflict with him).

I see a girl outside through a front window when I am in a store (part of a larger storefront area) later. There is a chin-up bar station as part of an outdoor fitness route (relevant to La Crosse) that she is working with in front of the store with one other girl and on the adjoining sidewalk. I start to get an impression that this is either the “mystery girl” (with no memory that I married her in reality) or at least my “next” partner in life. She falls at one point and so I go to ask if I can help her. She seems very friendly and cheerful and I then note that either I am lying down or I am extremely short, as she towers way above me, goddess-like, by at least five feet (similar to the “Rollover” dream in 1990 before I made first real contact with my lifelong “mystery girl”/wife). I get the sense of an alien-like presence, but it seems like a composite of my real wife (in the “mystery girl” phase) and some sort of tall multidimensional being, though not bigger, just unrealistically (disproportionately) taller.

I then go to a large shopping mall (of at least two floors) where there is a monorail track on the opposite side, the wide hall of the mall (mostly open along one side in one section) being directly adjoined to the train platform. At this point there is an awareness that I am making my dream (or “my world”) even though there is no lucidity at all. I walk through the very large hall of the shopping mall and note that the monorail train is approaching at the same level and is going to crash near the large rear entrance where the double doors allow access to a flight of stairs and the bottom floor, and it does crash shortly thereafter. It somehow derails (with no seeming cause other than my unjustified belief it will) and plows into the building, likely killing several people. The crash is long and dramatic (almost like slow-motion), with bits of glass continuously flying everywhere for several minutes though I somehow avoid the large pieces. However, my entire left hand is filled with small glass shards and bleeding a bit, which does not concern me that much. During this time, I had attempted to duck behind a corner and walk to the front entrance but for some reason go back again, fully exposed to the flying glass pieces. This is the most focused and vivid part of my dream and the broken glass tinkling sound is almost soothing regardless of the threatening implications.

From here, I go walking through another part of town. Susan R is seated on what reminds me of the front of the Arcadia Post Office and the male I had talked with earlier is with her and seated (about a person distance away) to her right, annoyed upon seeing me again, especially as a blasé accident victim. She seems very annoyed (almost disgusted) and emotionally hurt and is seemingly not going to listen to anything I say. I stroke her hair with a somewhat authoritative dominance and she is very angry at my audacity. At this point, I feel no guilt or passiveness and understand that whatever path I choose (whether or not it is with her) is my right. I lift my left hand and it glows with bright blue light, slowly getting brighter, the glass flying out and any cuts automatically healing (with only a vague concern that the flying glass may endanger others - though it does not). I am watching my hand glowing a brighter blue as I wake, with Blue Pearl events continuing shortly after fully waking.

Morning of September 28, 2008. Sunday.



I am back in one of my old apartments at the King Street boarding house, this one being the larger middle room on the eastern side of the hall (on the second floor). I am involved in some sort of unusual semi-lucid “ride” which takes up much of the central area of my room, which is being in the second train-car of a small black train, which at one point is more like being inside a larger solid box that tips and moves - and with me being unsure of my destination - there is a very vague awareness (but not a fear or stronger concern) that it is coffin-like. At one point, the miniature train (about the size of one at a park for children) moves out beyond the east wall, seemingly out into the night or very early morning, yet not falling. At one point, there does not even seem to be a wall. There is a vague awareness of how the little black train is “death” in reference to the Woody Guthrie song which I had listened to a lot in the recent past. However, the unusual orientation does not seem that eerie or ominous in-dream. It does seem unusually familiar at one point. There is no one else in the dream. The movement of my train seems automatic.

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On one level, this is probably just a metaphor for the dreaming and waking process itself as many dream events are in addition to just being a song association.

Morning of May 14, 1995. Sunday.



I seem to be the director of an unusual comedy-drama-science-fiction movie. Prior to the movie-like sections of my dream is a long section about getting friends together and equipment set up. There is no fear at any point and although at times I seem to “direct” my “movie” or dream by mental will, I am not actually lucid at any point.

The first part of the “movie” is about another world that is like a swamp where a tribe of seemingly African people live. This is connected with yet another world where blue-skinned people live in wealth near a beach. Some of these people have half the side of their body a darker blue. It seems that the people of each world sometimes bring gifts to each other that have religious or social-status-related implications.

An unknown female from the African tribe somehow enters this world (“my” world where the filming is taking place). A giant alligator also somehow comes through and causes a lot of problems. I get to a roof with several other people but certain other people climb a tree instead, which is pulled down by the alligator, and as a consequence the people are eaten.

Later, there are both comedic and sensual scenes, including a restaurant where people make love in public on tables but with mosquito nets over them. Supposed comedy involves police attempting to track down the alligator by reading different outdated files rather than where they are actually seeing it.

Later, there is an oversized man-eating train to have concerns about. It still only travels over some of the normal-sized railroad tracks. This seems to happen after the alligator gets hit by a train and there is an explosion that somehow combines the alligator and train into one living creature. It has a ribbed appearance and looks like an H.R. Giger design.

Eventually, the train has “babies” that are much smaller than real trains; about one-quarter the size. One person kills one and notices that it looks edible. It seems to have a marshmallow texture and banana flavor as I join the hunting party.

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This dream is quite similar in some ways to another dream; “Alligator Train?” of 1989, which was before my first contact with Zsuzsanna and my move to Australia in 1994. There was a shorter “prototype” of certain aspects of this dream (including a sort of “origin story” involving an African priest) on May 12th (1995). I find it curious that H.R. Giger died on May 12th, 2014.

Morning of October 11, 1988. Tuesday.



I am on an old-fashioned passenger train (as if from an episode of “Gunsmoke”, though a few people here and there are dressed rather anachronistically relative to more modern dress as well). I seem to be dressed typically as I often am in reality. I have a strange atypical focus, as if I am in a type of ambiguous faux lucidity and am trying to work out how I got where I am and with a vague ominous perspective. A younger version of the “mystery girl” (the female archetype that represented, in almost every accurate way possible - my wife-to-be - something “normal” people would never believe no matter how many hundreds of dreams had already clearly established it for me since birth).

Being on a train may or may not be a good thing, I contemplate “realistically” in-dream. There is some sort of “anniversary” premonitory thought in-dream related to both the scene from “Twilight Zone: The Movie” from June 1983 (where the Jewish people are being taken away on a train), and “Love My Way” (by The Psychedelic Furs) from June 1982, with the line “They’d put us on a railroad, they’d dearly make us pay”…which seems to relate to how I knew things (and proved to be correct) when everyone else was always in denial, which has been mostly the theme of my entire lifetime since early childhood, always giving me a weird advantage in some ways but pure puzzlement in others (yet again remembering that “normal” people, especially the cop-out mentality when facing the unexplainable, always baffled me far more than the unexplained or so-called paranormal, now more than ever).

It dawns on me that the “mystery girl” may be in danger, though I do not feel threatened in any way, as I seem to be “invulnerable” in the setting for some reason I cannot quite focus on. The girl turns around and smiles at me but looks quite puzzled. She is wearing a black veil of sorts and a black dress. Some sort of unknown military character chops off my right hand with a sword, but being curious as to this unexpected affront, I look down and see my hand is floating in the air, attached to the end of my arm with a yellowish silk ribbon. It “spirals” back on, almost as if I was in a gravity-free environment for a very short time. There is no blood and it is slightly transparent. I am strongly reminded of M.C. Escher’s “Rind”.

This will not do. I feel I must take the girl and myself away from here. I go to get her and hold her to my front without resistance, attempting to lift her, and as I do, I lift both her and myself (with some sort of in-dream telekinesis) from the floor of the train, hovering in a fetal position. As such, I remain in place, passing through each train’s wall as it continues on until it is then beyond us on the track (and it keeps going). We then fly to a “familiar” location. It is familiar somehow in that it seems to be the “fictional realm” of an older dream from June 1972 which involved a deer’s “ghost” in an abandoned mansion, which was located in a forest fairly close to a truncated section of railroad tracks - therefore creating some sort of odd but “stronger” relationship between two sixteen-year-apart dreams - not that common of an event - though it is possibly loosely based on the old train at Copeland Park in La Crosse (as there have been several other more intense associations along this theme, including synchronicity with the “mystery girl”, such as the one where the Mississippi River lowers to reveal an old railroad, which becomes active again). There is a vivid sense of late autumn. Also, these supposed “barriers” between in-dream locations have often occurred before, almost as if each (fictional) dream location was part of a system of “bubbles” where you could go from one to another with some sort of particular focus or “portal”.

There is a unique perspective at this time. I figure that I can leave the girl here in this environment (until she “safely wakes” into her “real” location somewhere) because there is some sort of “barrier” between it and other facets from later dreams (oddly, even though I am not lucid as such). I also feel a bit odd about leaving her, though. In the back of my mind is the very early childhood association with seeing her in a tree in a park (on my family’s real-life trip from Wisconsin to Florida) and being threatened by wild hogs. Still, she has survived, although she was “older then” (which of course is faux “dream logic”).

Of course, there is more as there usually is. My wife had taken a train to get to school, and she had (when we first started writing) sent a photo of herself feeding a deer…

Morning of February 5, 1969. Wednesday.



There have been numerous dreams throughout my life which featured ambiguous modes of transportation; for example, of being on a flying school bus which is also somehow an airplane in my dream (yet has the appearance of the inside of a school bus, with the same orientation of the driver and such). There is sometimes a lack of clarity (based on scenes outside the windows, typically) on whether I am on a bus, train, airplane, or even a boat, which of course, sometimes changes (the “morphing” so common in dreams being only one of many reasons why “dream dictionaries” mean nothing to real dream-workers). Also, windows become paintings or vice versa.

In this case, I seem to be “rising” in being on an aircraft, but no, I realize it is likely a bus, which then resolves as a boat, as we seem to be on water (with no awareness of a road). However, just because there is no hint of a road and we are on water does not mean it cannot be a bus (faux dream “logic”). For example, it may be an extremely narrow road over water.

At any rate, I am somehow with a larger rock (which I first take to be a turtle but then it is a rock but which then starts to “wiggle” again), which has somehow come to me through a solid glass (closed) window. There is something in the back of my mind about “The Ugly Duckling” but it is not that clear. Also, there is some sort of fairy tale, I reason, where a swan is actually a girl. Being a black swan, it represents my future wife, as I was familiar with the stamp. There is a “strange tickle” of a type that occurred in other dreams, in my lower stomach area and as the swan wiggles a bit, which may prove to be problematic.

Curiously, the scene with rocks in the water from the “window” then turns out to be a painting (typical of mixed two-dimensional and three-dimensional in-dream elements which other people have told me is fairly common in their own dreams) and I am sitting in a museum after all. However, the “painting” is then that of “The Birth of Venus” (Sandro Botticelli) though she has dark hair and the “angels” are replaced by a white swan and a black swan.

“She’s HERE!” yells a thin old man, seeming terrified and running from the area, going around a corner. The painting starts to glow blue (mostly around the head and shoulders of the dark-haired “mystery girl”) and I fall back empty-handed with a strange “comfortable” oscillation in my ears (always the exact same pitch throughout my life for the most part), falling into nothing, “falling” into my bed awake.

Curiously, shortly before my wife first wrote me in 1991, a new black swan stamp (43 cents) was apparently issued on Valentine’s Day…